


Turks Aren't Supposed To Be Heroes

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: ij porn_battle, Humor, M/M, Post-Canon, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-16
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And this is what I get for helping people, yo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turks Aren't Supposed To Be Heroes

When Reno woke up, he found himself staring at the familiar off-white ceiling tiles of the medical wing.

Of course, this immediately resulted in his trying to remember what he’d done to himself – this time, as the medical staff were inclined to point out in resigned tones. Depending on what kind of head injuries were involved, sometimes he just had to take their word for whatever stunt he’d pulled, and rely on the fact that Rude would tell him if he truly had been an idiot.

His last mission had been some terrorists – didn’t that bring back memories? Although Avalanche had never been _that_ stupid – who’d invaded one of their branch offices to demand ShinRa pay them all ‘reparations’. What those reparations were for was never quite discussed. That would have been bad enough, but there were customers in paying their accounts, several of whom were mothers with small children in tow. It was just the kind of hostage situation that could get horribly messy even without the threat of biological weapons.

Once upon a time, they wouldn’t have worried about hostages, just making sure everybody knew that messing with ShinRa was a Bad Idea. But ShinRa had a new image to live up to, and ‘rescue the hostages’ was the top priority.

How things had changed.

Things got a little fuzzy at that point, but he thought he remembered getting in the way of a terrorist who, in a last-minute act of desperation, was lunging for a lady holding a chubby looking toddler –

Oh, fuck.

The terrorists had hold of some random samples from one of Hojo’s labs. There had been no intelligence on what, precisely, but there were these weird, random images in Reno’s head, along with a feeling of excruciating pain and a bunch of other sensations that were too strange to label.

Reno raised his head enough to look down. Damn. That hadn’t been the sample’s hallucinogenic properties.

“You’re awake,” a voice observed calmly from the chair in the corner of the room.

Reno turned to see Vincent emerging from the shadows. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as it had once been, as the gunman had traded in the red cape for a Turk’s suit, but somehow Reno could still see the suggestion of fluttering tendrils of darkness trailing behind him. That was just how Vincent was.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Rude?”

* * *

Vincent had rejoined the Turks a few months ago. It hadn’t been an easy decision – he was still a little bitter that he’d ended up as Hojo’s little experiment and no real questions seemed to have been asked about his ‘death’, but the current batch of Turks had nothing to do with that, and would back each other against anything. The former AVALANCHE members didn’t understand, except for Cloud. Cloud had simply nodded when told, and continued on as if there was nothing startling about the news. The others, he convinced it was to make sure he got the chance to shoot any mad scientists with ideas about human experimentation before they get started.

It was even true. Just not the whole story.

Vincent had expected a few questions and even some slight distrust from his colleagues, at least until they accepted he was serious about this, but that didn’t happen. The first day his return was announced in Tseng’s office, with Reno, Rude and Elena present, the other three had simply looked to Tseng. When Tseng nodded, that was it. 

On one hand, it was a little… daunting. He’d been granted a position of great trust and responsibility on Tseng’s word alone, and the other man had no real reason to do so. On the other, the trust his fellow Turks placed in Tseng suggested that he was right about the quality of the current Turk Leader.

There’d certainly been no questions about his skill or seniority. He’d been partnered with Elena, as Tseng was busy running everything remotely security-related. He found the blonde woman… interesting. He knew Tifa and Yuffie, so women fighters were hardly a new concept to him. But Elena was capable of being surprisingly feminine while carrying out even the worst of tasks, nothing like the tomboyish bartender and fiery ninja.

As for Reno and Rude, he’d revised his assessment of that particular partnership. They both had wild streaks, although Rude hid his more effectively, and Reno wasn’t quite the loose cannon he often appeared. But he remained cautious with the redhead. Reno had a talent for surprising people, and not always in pleasant ways.

Like this latest turn of events.

“It was believed safer that someone who was capable of restraining you, if necessary, watch over you.”

Again, it was the truth. The matter had been under discussion, with the doctors wishing to use restraints to secure Reno to the bed. That had stirred unpleasant memories for Vincent, memories of being tied down and treated more like a lab rat than a human being. For Reno - someone so loudly, vibrantly human with all the implied vices and even some of the virtues that went with it - to be treated like that just seemed wrong. He found himself volunteering to keep watch.

For a moment Rude looked like he wanted to object. Reno was his partner, after all. But in the end he gave Vincent a long look, shades conspicuously absent, and nodded.

“You’ve been here two days, by the way.”

“Two days?”

“It was a very quick... change.”

“Change. You make it sound like I switched outfits. Where are my clothes, by the way?” Reno gave an impatient tug at the requisite hospital gown, wide enough for an elephant, still too short to cover anything, and with a definite hole in the back.

“Tseng sent the shirt and jacket off to be decontaminated, then dry-cleaned. Your pants were destroyed.”

“No shit they were. I have fucking tentacles where my legs used to be!” There was a note of hysteria in Reno’s voice, and Vincent concealed a frown. Reno was all for screaming and yelling and dramatic displays, but he preferred to be in control of them. He had a coffee mug that sat proudly on the corner of his desk, proclaiming the drinker to be a ‘Drama Queen’ in lurid pink and purple lettering. Hysteria wasn’t a usual Reno-reaction, and therefore possibly dangerous.

The tentacles had been quiescent while he was sleeping. Now, they moved in agitated patterns, several stretching over the edges of the hospital bed to as if searching for something. At least two of them were wrapped around the bed’s steel frame with what seemed to be a _very_ firm grip.

Vincent recalled the reason the doctors had wanted Reno restrained in the first place. The effects of the bio-weapon hadn’t become evident until the ambulance transporting the redhead was halfway back to headquarters, and fortunately he seemed to be delirious for most of it, so it was possible he didn’t remember the more horrific details of that trip. But when Reno was removed from the ambulance, he’d had his new appendages, and the ambulance was now missing one of its rear doors.

There seemed to be a suspicious buckle where one of the tentacles was wrapped tight, like it was starting to give way under pressure.

"And this is what I get for helping people, yo." The words seemed a little closer to Reno’s normal attitude, the tone aggrieved. He stared at the gently waving mass – the same pale colour as the rest of his skin with red markings that were, oddly enough, nearly the same as the tattoos under his eyes. “Turks aren’t supposed to be heroes.  I became a Turk to kick ass and break things, not save small children. I don’t like children. They smell bad and cry a lot.”

“There’s talk about giving you some kind of medal.” It was all Vincent could do to keep a straight face. ‘Reno’ and ‘heroic’ hardly seemed like they belonged in the same sentence.

But then, Reno liked to surprise people.

Reno still gave Vincent a suspicious look. “You better not be laughing at me, yo, ‘cos undead guy or not, I will kill you.”

“Of course not.”

“Good. I need a drink. A big drink. Maybe a whole damned bar. I need to be drunk for the next month, and then maybe they’ll have gone away.”

“It’s not likely.”

“Just shut the fuck up, because you’re not helping. I like you better silent and brooding.” There was a groan from the metal bed-frame, and they both looked at it. Reno carefully unwrapped one tentacle, and sure enough, the steel tube was crumpled inwards. “Damn. Make that a whole year.”

“It would probably be smarter to learn your new – capabilities before tying one on,” Vincent pointed out.

“I’m not interested in smart, at the moment. Smart would have been staying away from whackjobs with biological weapons.” Reno froze, his gaze fixed on – his lap?

Vincent looked. The movements had driven the already short hospital gown up further.

“Fuck.” The Turk ripped the gown off entirely. He sat there on the bed, lean body completely naked, looking even paler than usual. “Vincent, you got your gun on you?”

Vincent gave him a flat stare that would have shriveled a lesser man, and possibly even Reno, if he’d been looking, but the redhead’s attention was on his alterations, and after a moment, the gunman looked, too. They started at the hips, the already-narrow waist tapering in a little before splitting into many divergent strands of marked flesh, around about the point at which legs would usually begin.

“Yes,” he finally stated when it appeared Reno wasn’t going to say anything else.

“Shoot me.”

“What?” Vincent’s eyes went wide, and he stared at the redhead in pure, open-mouthed astonishment.

“I just realized I no longer have a dick. Shoot me now!”

The gunman’s mouth opened and closed a few more times without any words coming out. When he realized, he closed it with a snap.

His first impulse was to say something like, ‘It’s not that bad,’ but he was still a man, and wasn’t sure he believed that, either. He wasn’t sure you could over-react to finding you not only had tentacles, but had apparently been neutered in the process. He groped for possible responses, and what came out was, “You don’t know that.”

“Huh?” Reno looked at him.

“I said that you don’t know that. It’s quite possible – even probable – you still have a dick. It’s just not -” Vincent wasn’t exactly a gifted talker, but he managed to substitute ‘where you left it’ for “what you’re used to,” smoothly enough he didn’t think Reno noticed. “As I said, it would be wise to learn your new body’s capabilities.”

Reno laughed, a decidedly not-happy sound. “You offering to go look for it?”

Vincent looked at the lean, pale body of his fellow Turk, the newest additions making it appear even longer as they stretched and twisted together. He remembered that first shock of waking, looking down to see claws instead of fingers, the subsequent returns to consciousness and that jarring awareness that he wasn’t really human any longer, that he was some sort of monster instead. His gauntleted hand fisted, and he stepped towards the bed.

“Okay.”

“Wha-” Reno started as Vincent’s bare hand plunged into the mass of tentacles with little hesitation. It became a strangled sound, one tentacle wrapping itself firmly about Vincent’s wrist, but it wasn’t one of pain.

Vincent moved his hand a little. The tentacle about his wrist tightened reflexively, but not enough to do any damage. He allowed his lips to curve in a smile. “Well, it seems that something down here is… in working order.”

It wasn’t exactly the dick he’d been looking for. It was more that the inner tentacles seemed softer, more sensitive, their texture almost familiar. He stroked experimentally.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just one tentacle holding him, but several.

“You think that’s – uhn – fucking funny?” Reno growled. Tentacles whipped about in frenzied activity, and Vincent suddenly realized his jacket was gone, and something was working at the opening to his pants. He debated over pulling away, but then that something was in his pants and he was the one making a strangled sound as something wrapped around his cock.

“Y’know, I think you’re right about this capability thing,” Reno smirked. A tentacle worked at his shirt buttons, then grew impatient and yanked. Vincent heard the soft pings as the scattered buttons hit various surfaces. “I could do all kinds of things with these, yo.”

“Big talk. Can you back it up?” Vincent growled. The tentacle in his pants flexed and stroked, and his hips bucked a little before he stilled them.

In short order he found himself on the bed, with only his gauntlet remaining. His pants had gone the way of his shirt, Reno sacrificing finesse for speed, and tentacles wrapped his hips, thighs, and ankles, holding him upright but conspicuously spread. Hands clutched at bony shoulders, and he tried to force the brass claws of his left to let go, but it was hard to think with Reno’s grip on his cock. There was a strange sense of unreality to it, but Vincent’s view of reality had been sharply redrawn some thirty-odd years ago, and it was hard to deny when one of Reno’s tentacles was jerking his cock with surprising skill.

Even though he was expecting it, the touch at the entrance of his ass was startling. It was damp, and he wasn’t sure where the moisture had come from, but the appendage that was pushing inside him was slick and flexible. Another slightly moist tentacle wandered across his chest, finding a nipple and latching onto it. It felt like it was sucking. This time, the cry he’d been trying to hold back escaped him.

“Damn, you look hot,” Reno breathed.

Vincent blinked at him. Reno’s eyes were heavy-lidded and a little glazed. As he watched, a tongue darted out to lick at parted lips. A little awkwardly, he shifted, leaning forward. He could feel the tentacle moving further inside him as their lips met. Odd to be so far involved before they even kissed.

There was nothing shy about it. Their tongues slid against each other, battling with mock-ferocity until Vincent realized that the tentacle in his ass was mimicking the slide and thrust of Reno’s tongue, and had to break away for desperately needed air.

Moments later, something wet was sliding across his lips, and he opened his eyes to see Reno’s face was still some distance away. Vincent opened his mouth willingly, letting his tongue explore this new intruder. Another one of what he was thinking of as the inner tentacles, the first few inches seemed to have a highly-sensitive underside, and from the taste - musk, salt, and something spicy - it was where the moisture was coming from. It flexed against his tongue, curling inwards before flattening out again, and he teased it mercilessly, enjoying the sounds Reno made in response.

He felt another probing at his entrance and a further stretching sensation, almost painful, and realized there were now two tentacles in his ass, and they were moving against each other in ways that were driving all thought from his head. He sucked on the tentacle in his mouth, anything more complicated beyond him, and simply _felt_ as Reno fucked him in more ways than one.

When he came, his vision greyed, body jerking against Reno’s grip. He felt the tentacles tighten to a near painful degree moments later, a new wetness spreading inside his ass and mouth. He swallowed instinctively, even though his body felt incredibly limp.

Reno’s grip on him relaxed without really letting go, certain appendages withdrawing, and then they were both lying prone on the bed, trying to process what had just happened.

“I think I have claw-marks on my shoulder.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” There was a pause. “Is this gonna happen again?”

Vincent considered it. Reno was a Turk, and a good one. He did trust the other man, although not where practical jokes were concerned, and certainly found him attractive. And the sex... was pretty damned spectacular. “I think so, yes.”

“Huh.” Reno seemed content to stare at the ceiling.

It was several minutes before Reno spoke again. “Well. I guess I can handle being on top.” Vincent stiffened. “But there’s one thing I’m not sure I can get used to.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, his voice holding a dangerous edge.

“Up until now, _I’ve_ always been the prettier one.”


End file.
